The station was a crowded mess, and the smells and emotions assaulted him from everywhere. He couldn’t understand how people could stand it, but then he’d actually found himself coming to bear it after living on Imperial Centre for the last year.


The Citadel itself, despite also being continuously growing and filled with people of all kinds, was thoroughly clean and the air was meticulously recycled, and incredibly strict standards of cleanliness and conduct meant that garbage and the general detritus that comes with life did not build up within its walls.

The air bus opened its doors and people of all kinds were almost vomited out; they spilled from within in a way that coincided with the sudden ‘noise’ of their emotions and presences in the Force. With his training, he was much more aware of these feelings, and much more aware of how they were not his.


He clenched his fists and focused, breathing deeply and letting out his anxieties, frustrations, and allowing the frenzy of all the people around to flow through him without really impacting his frame of mind. It was all about self-awareness, at the end of it. As long as he was aware of what was his, and what wasn’t, he’d be able to weather the torrent of feelings Imperial Centre carried with it.

“Now boarding,” chimed over the speakers from within the bus. He stood and stretched, and padded lightly to the eighty-seater, keeping his head down. “Now boarding. Stops in Tarkin, Pellaeon, Palpatine Forums; continues to Chiba, continues to Chiba.”

Khoovi found a seat and settled in quickly, curling down and looking out the viewport as the bus filled up, and wondered how long it would take before he’d be noticed, either for his size, or for his appearance. Most other Shistavanen he’d seen were shaggy and unkempt, whereas his fur was trimmed and neat, if still a bit wild. It singled him out as different, and even on a planet where ties and loyalties were often formed on the basis of one’s (former) homeworld, if you didn’t really look or feel like the rest of your species, you weren’t really one of them.

With one clawed hand, he reached up and mussed his hair.